Ashes
by Brass Dragon
Summary: Sometimes you just want to see a peice of their minds.Sanzo.Hakkai


**Ashes  
An Exercise** _in Perspective  
An experiment in the perverse by the Brass Dragon.

* * *

_

Pieces of you liter my floor.

Do you expect me to clean that up?

You're messy and jaded. I thought I told you to stop coming around. All these bright red warning signs don't seem to thwart you.

When was it that you decided masochism suited you?

Was it when she left you in the worst way?

Was it when you found that despite her lacking, you continued to live on?

Or was it when my arms pulled you close, even while my mouth bid you to leave?

What a colorful conundrum we are.

Both of us not wanting what we clearly do. Or perhaps that's wrong. You want; this is evident in your eyes. There is comfort however, in knowing that never will the admission leave your lips.

I must wonder why I allow you me, when my mind struggles so afterward.

But then again, that's afterward.

* * *

"You should be angry!" You once admonished, with just enough force and vigor to get me to listen.

"She made a choice, she decided the rest of your life in one move. She made a mockery of all that you did for _her_." And then you looked so closely I knew you could see the cracks in my soul.

They are so obvious.

Someone once called you the sun, and now I know. Because your light hurts my eyes.

_Perhaps_ I long to say, _perhaps I should be angry. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I hate her a bit for being weak. For denying me my chance at joy._

But then a piece of my mind screams, it screeches and claws, it digs talons in and bites down with a ferocity that is only contained by will and pride.

And this pain I deserve. This pain makes me whole.

And I smile.

And you sigh. "Masochist." The word leaves your lips like a curse.

And I smile. "Sadist."

And I'm please when my arms enfold you.

* * *

You're quite, contemplative.

And I recall something, as you must be.

It was dark that night, and you had looked out and chuckled. "Perhaps I'm just getting older, but the world seems to be getting darker all the time."

I think maybe I snorted, maybe I scoffed and said something along the lines that it wasn't any darker than the night before.

"Of course." You said, and seemed maybe a little disappointed?

Then I made to light a cigarette but your fingers stopped me.

For a moment I thought you were trying to instigate something, but you spoke. Something about the room being so small and the smoke having a tendency to linger.

So me, fighting embarrassment, and something else, wandered outside to bum a light from the other you had banished. Standing there with the smoke from our cigarettes cloying my senses I thought maybe the world was a little bit darker.

I remember looking up, and seeing you move by the window, and then there was a flash of red from my peripheral as he tossed errant strands.

"He's like really good tea," he commented softly "smells nice, looks pretty and does really good in a bit a hot water," I think he took a drag then, deep and thoughtful. "But if you let him steep to long…" there was a wave of a hand, a general and all encompassing gesture, "becomes bitter and totally undrinkable. Ya' know?"

And it was strange, strange for him to speak eloquently, strange for him to read the situation so well. What wasn't strange was my reply. "What the fuck do you know about tea, kappa?"

Or something along those lines.

Now I smirk, and watch my fingers fiddle with the unlit cigarette.

I feel your fingers on my thigh. Your breath on my cheek, and I know that I'll turn my head to find your lips.

The kappa doesn't know fuck about tea.

* * *

I'm glad I left the window open, the breeze feels good.

Your breathing has leveled, but I can see the quick strong bump of your pulse against your throat. I know you're not asleep, so I tell you so.

You grunt and open one eye. "Shouldn't you be leaving?" You growl out.

And I smile, grin really, and wonder how long it will take you to remember that you're in _my_ bed for a change.

And because its to good a thing to miss I roll onto my side and cradle my head in my hand, unable to get rid of that almost mocking grin as your eyes blink open and a little flickering spark of realization ignights.

I can't help but chuckle as you scowl at the ceiling. Then comes the frown and I almost expect you to kick me out anyway. That is until your roll onto your stomach and ease your arms under a pillow. For a moment my smile falters, careful corners turning sharp with surprise.

You turn your head and glare, daring me to comment.

"Go to sleep moron."

So I do, because following you is the only thing I can seem to do well.

Once, just once, I asked you why you let me keep coming back. Why you seemed to grant me this seemingly grudging welcome.

And I think you were surprised, cigarette dangling from pale fingers. And I expected you not to answer, to brush me off. But you didn't.

There must have been something, something in the way I was looking at you, or maybe there was desperation in my stance that I was unaware of; something that warranted a response.

There was something that flickered in your eyes, before you turned them away from me. "Broken hearts are an open book."

And it was said with a finality that asked me to leave it at that.

So I did, and watched you inhale, and draw smoke into your lungs, breath making the spark glow hot.

And now as I close my eyes, I can feel your breath warm against my shoulder. An open book isn't such a bad thing to be, so long as to many don't have the opportunity to pour though your pages.

And I can't stop the smile.

If I'm an open book, there are ashes between my pages.

* * *

3-17-05

AN: Okie dokie. For those of you who are kin to my high school English teacher, and are tearing your hair out at the lack of structured paragraphs and my apparent flagrant freedom with punctuation…ehehehe. This is thought structured. It started out all-nice and narrative, but then I thought…I don't think this way. And I was tempted to toss in totally random stuff, like a grocery list, or maybe a tangent or two…but it very much took away from…well everything.

Now. For those of you who enjoyed it for what it was…a fanfiction that I attempted to keep as much in character as possible, with a little bit of 'romance' mixed in. Thank you.

Ah…one more. For those of you who didn't catch it, it went Sanzo, Hakkai, Sanzo, Hakkai.


End file.
